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"Teen Go" -- A Teen Wolf x Hikaru no Go Fusion
Title: Teen Go [also available on AO3]
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Hikaru no Go Fusion waaaaaaaai)
Rating: K+
Word Length: 1, 125
Warnings: Lots of stupid.
Summary: Life had been great until Stiles' best friend had been turned into a go prodigy (allegedly, no biting had been involved, but Stiles had filed the whole event under Deeply Suspicious). Now, Scott spent all his time pack-bonding and howling at the full moon... or, you know, whatever it was those go people did. And that was just not okay.
The past year had been trying, but Stiles had eventually developed a flawless coping mechanism: when in doubt, blame Derek.
"What do you want," the man in question snarled when he finally opened the door. "The go salon doesn't open for another hour."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's too bad, because I'm obviously here as a paying customer."
"You should be, with how often you show up here, freeloading." Derek crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring down at Stiles with an expression that made clear his intent to remain in the doorway, blocking any entrance, indefinitely.
Indefinitely turned out to be around thirty seconds, however, which was the amount of time it took Derek's mother to appear and say cheerfully, "Stiles! Come on in. Why don't you sit down at one of the tables, and Derek will get you some hot chocolate."
Stiles smiled sweetly at Derek. "I'd love to, Mrs. Hale, thanks."
Stiles had settled down and was fiddling with some of the black go stones when Derek skulked back to the table, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand and a glum scowl on his face.
"Are those both for me?" Stiles asked, grinning.
Derek didn't bother answering, just shoved a mug at Stiles and dropped gracefully into the chair across from him, looking casual and gorgeous and like a model or an actor or anything other than what he was, a high-school dropout who'd committed his whole life to the study of a board game.
Stiles took a deep breath and leaned forward, carefully applying his patented Angry Face. Derek didn't look particularly moved. "Scott's grades are down again," he finally said.
Derek didn't roll his eyes, but it was clearly a near thing. "So? I'm not his mother." He took a gulp from his mug. "Neither are you," he added.
"Nevertheless, you promised you wouldn't take up too much of his time, that you'd give him the chance to live a normal teen life before you snatch him up to be used as cannon fodder in your never ending territory disputes and dominance fights."
"Jesus," said Derek. "What exactly do you think we do? It's a damn board game, Stiles."
"Sure, a board game is what's been completely consuming Scott's soul for the past year, causing him to abandon every other pursuit--even lacrosse! Even Call of Duty, oh my god--and ignore the existence of everyone else." Including me, he didn’t say.
Derek clenched his jaw and stared up at the ceiling, as though hoping for guidance. Which, weird. "I play a board game. Scott plays a board game. I'm very good at it. Internationally renowned. I think Scott has the potential to be that good, too. So we get together once or twice a week and study go together. That's all. No nefarious plots, no world domination schemes. We play go. Okay?"
Stiles glared down at the go board on the table in front of them. They’d had this conversation many, many times before. Obviously, he knew that what Derek was saying was the truth; he wasn't that stupid. It's just that this was the first time Scott and Stiles hadn't been together in everything. Stiles tried to help out where he could--he researched new and old techniques, studied the styles preferred by various other players, and then he passed on all that information to Scott as though he was handing over battle plans. Stiles studied go, too, often here in this very go salon, badgering Derek into impromptu tutoring sessions that he really should be paying for. Stiles even thought he was shaping up into a fairly decent player himself. But despite all his studies, despite all his research, Stiles couldn't seem to keep up with Scott, couldn't follow along this path his best friend had suddenly begun sprinting down. From what seemed like the first moment that Scott had really encountered go, he'd been completely sucked in, living, breathing, drinking go until it seemed as though go was less a metaphor for his life than his life was a metaphor for go. He could think about go, strategise about go, in ways that no one else could. Go was a part of him. Stiles just couldn't understand go the way Scott could. The way Derek could.
Derek sighed. "The salon still doesn't open for a while. Want to play a game?"
Stiles felt his mouth turn down even further. "Why? So you can beat me in ten minutes and then gloat about it?"
Derek scowled at him. "Don't be a moron, Stiles. We don't have to play if you don't want to."
They sat in strained silence together, before Stiles finally gave in and said in a small voice, "It's not that I don't want to play, it's just... I hate feeling so stupid."
"No one thinks you're stupid. I like playing with you." Derek's eyes flickered up, and he smirked, transforming his already gorgeous face into something completely devastating. Not that Stiles' stomach was tying itself into knots over it or anything. "Even if I do beat you in ten minutes."
"Screw you," Stiles laughed. "Just for that, if I last longer than ten minutes, you have to buy me lunch."
"So what? I already buy you lunch practically every day."
Stiles felt his face flush red. Okay, so that was... sort of really true. "Yeah, well... this time, it'll be a... date."
Derek stilled, eyes jumping up to study Stiles' expression. "Fine. Then what do I get if I win in faster than ten minutes?"
"You won't."
"I might."
Stiles threw on his best cocky smile, the one that his dad said made him look like he was a clown suit away from demanding why everyone was so serious. Derek seemed to like it, though, based on the way the tips of his ears always turned bright red whenever he was on the receiving end. "I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"
Stiles might not be some messianic go prodigy like Scott and Derek, but he was obviously an amazing motivator. He didn't think he'd ever seen Derek this determined to win a go game before, and that was saying something.
[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Hikaru no Go Fusion waaaaaaaai)
Rating: K+
Word Length: 1, 125
Warnings: Lots of stupid.
Summary: Life had been great until Stiles' best friend had been turned into a go prodigy (allegedly, no biting had been involved, but Stiles had filed the whole event under Deeply Suspicious). Now, Scott spent all his time pack-bonding and howling at the full moon... or, you know, whatever it was those go people did. And that was just not okay.
The past year had been trying, but Stiles had eventually developed a flawless coping mechanism: when in doubt, blame Derek.
"What do you want," the man in question snarled when he finally opened the door. "The go salon doesn't open for another hour."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's too bad, because I'm obviously here as a paying customer."
"You should be, with how often you show up here, freeloading." Derek crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring down at Stiles with an expression that made clear his intent to remain in the doorway, blocking any entrance, indefinitely.
Indefinitely turned out to be around thirty seconds, however, which was the amount of time it took Derek's mother to appear and say cheerfully, "Stiles! Come on in. Why don't you sit down at one of the tables, and Derek will get you some hot chocolate."
Stiles smiled sweetly at Derek. "I'd love to, Mrs. Hale, thanks."
Stiles had settled down and was fiddling with some of the black go stones when Derek skulked back to the table, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand and a glum scowl on his face.
"Are those both for me?" Stiles asked, grinning.
Derek didn't bother answering, just shoved a mug at Stiles and dropped gracefully into the chair across from him, looking casual and gorgeous and like a model or an actor or anything other than what he was, a high-school dropout who'd committed his whole life to the study of a board game.
Stiles took a deep breath and leaned forward, carefully applying his patented Angry Face. Derek didn't look particularly moved. "Scott's grades are down again," he finally said.
Derek didn't roll his eyes, but it was clearly a near thing. "So? I'm not his mother." He took a gulp from his mug. "Neither are you," he added.
"Nevertheless, you promised you wouldn't take up too much of his time, that you'd give him the chance to live a normal teen life before you snatch him up to be used as cannon fodder in your never ending territory disputes and dominance fights."
"Jesus," said Derek. "What exactly do you think we do? It's a damn board game, Stiles."
"Sure, a board game is what's been completely consuming Scott's soul for the past year, causing him to abandon every other pursuit--even lacrosse! Even Call of Duty, oh my god--and ignore the existence of everyone else." Including me, he didn’t say.
Derek clenched his jaw and stared up at the ceiling, as though hoping for guidance. Which, weird. "I play a board game. Scott plays a board game. I'm very good at it. Internationally renowned. I think Scott has the potential to be that good, too. So we get together once or twice a week and study go together. That's all. No nefarious plots, no world domination schemes. We play go. Okay?"
Stiles glared down at the go board on the table in front of them. They’d had this conversation many, many times before. Obviously, he knew that what Derek was saying was the truth; he wasn't that stupid. It's just that this was the first time Scott and Stiles hadn't been together in everything. Stiles tried to help out where he could--he researched new and old techniques, studied the styles preferred by various other players, and then he passed on all that information to Scott as though he was handing over battle plans. Stiles studied go, too, often here in this very go salon, badgering Derek into impromptu tutoring sessions that he really should be paying for. Stiles even thought he was shaping up into a fairly decent player himself. But despite all his studies, despite all his research, Stiles couldn't seem to keep up with Scott, couldn't follow along this path his best friend had suddenly begun sprinting down. From what seemed like the first moment that Scott had really encountered go, he'd been completely sucked in, living, breathing, drinking go until it seemed as though go was less a metaphor for his life than his life was a metaphor for go. He could think about go, strategise about go, in ways that no one else could. Go was a part of him. Stiles just couldn't understand go the way Scott could. The way Derek could.
Derek sighed. "The salon still doesn't open for a while. Want to play a game?"
Stiles felt his mouth turn down even further. "Why? So you can beat me in ten minutes and then gloat about it?"
Derek scowled at him. "Don't be a moron, Stiles. We don't have to play if you don't want to."
They sat in strained silence together, before Stiles finally gave in and said in a small voice, "It's not that I don't want to play, it's just... I hate feeling so stupid."
"No one thinks you're stupid. I like playing with you." Derek's eyes flickered up, and he smirked, transforming his already gorgeous face into something completely devastating. Not that Stiles' stomach was tying itself into knots over it or anything. "Even if I do beat you in ten minutes."
"Screw you," Stiles laughed. "Just for that, if I last longer than ten minutes, you have to buy me lunch."
"So what? I already buy you lunch practically every day."
Stiles felt his face flush red. Okay, so that was... sort of really true. "Yeah, well... this time, it'll be a... date."
Derek stilled, eyes jumping up to study Stiles' expression. "Fine. Then what do I get if I win in faster than ten minutes?"
"You won't."
"I might."
Stiles threw on his best cocky smile, the one that his dad said made him look like he was a clown suit away from demanding why everyone was so serious. Derek seemed to like it, though, based on the way the tips of his ears always turned bright red whenever he was on the receiving end. "I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"
Stiles might not be some messianic go prodigy like Scott and Derek, but he was obviously an amazing motivator. He didn't think he'd ever seen Derek this determined to win a go game before, and that was saying something.
[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]